


Shine

by orchestralstab



Series: Falling [4]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Humor, Oral Sex, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, liamkostaweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchestralstab/pseuds/orchestralstab
Summary: Plus, atmosphere. It’s all about atmosphere. He’s never been particularly bothered with that. But he’s come to realise that she never looks as good as she does when her naked skin is bathed by the light of a thousand thousand distant stars.* Shared for tumblr's Liam Kosta Appreciation Week *





	Shine

Okay.

So.

Here’s the scene.

Pathfinder’s quarters on the Tempest. Time? Uh… Sometime after 2300? Liam doesn’t know. Time has barely any meaning when he’s in here with Avery. Like there’s some time warp shit going on or something. He’s sure there’s a scientific explanation for it. Most likely, it’s something mundane like he’s losing his marbles because all his blood has rushed from his head to his cock. So… there’s _that_. That definitely helps set the scene.

What else?

He’s naked. She’s naked. They often are when they’re alone together, even when they’re not screwing around. Her bed’s soft. Always is. But he’ll never get over it so it’s worth iterating. ( _Or is it reiterating? Wait. Do those two words mean exactly the same thing? Like flammable and inflammable? Fuck. England, man. Hell of a country. Hell of a language.)_ Her skin is smooth beneath his wandering hands. Again, always is. Again, he will never get over it. Her body has this nice hardness to it; lightly muscled arms, shoulders, stomach. But there’s so much softness there too. Like… her arse. Don’t even get him started. And her thighs. Fucking hell, her _thighs_. There’s so much give to the flesh when he holds onto them. And whenever he drives himself into her, there’s a definite, undulating wobble that just makes him crazy. But, that’s getting way ahead of himself…

Okay. More of the scene.

She smells sweet, like flowers. Which… shit, how is that possible when there aren’t any flowers on ship? Except for the weird Heleus ones that don’t smell like flowers. At least not like the flowers she smells like. Could be the soap she uses. Or just her. Probably just her. Because she’s wonderful like that. She tastes sweet, too. Not like flowers. At least, he doesn’t think like flowers; he’s never just, like, eaten a fucking flower so he actually doesn’t know. No. He knows. She doesn’t taste like flowers, she tastes like the kinds of sweets he used to eat as a child. So, it’s settled. Smells sweet, like flowers. Tastes sweet, like sweets.

She’s dimmed the lights, left the window projection on because they’re not on planet and she doesn’t have to worry about her paranoia over being seen. Plus, atmosphere. It’s all about atmosphere. He’s never been particularly bothered with that. But he’s come to realise that she never looks as good as she does when her naked skin is bathed by the light of a thousand thousand distant stars. ( _Poetic. Nice. Remember to tell her that later. She’ll probably laugh and punch you but it’ll be worth it for that little blush you’ll barely be able to see._ ) She’s turned on the sound system to drown out the mechanical hum of the ship, loud enough that he can feel the bass thrumming in his bones, not so loud that he can’t hear her. Those little sighs she lets out when he kisses her? Fucking perfection. Another thing he’ll never get over.

He doesn’t think anything as good as this has ever happened to him. ‘This’ being her, them, their friendship, their relationship, the fact that she’s lying naked on top of him. Yes, it’s all good, great, fantastic, phenomenal, any fucking synonym he can think of. On their own, the words don’t come close to describing it. But together? Well they don’t come close to describing it either but they’re just that tiny bit closer.

Scene set? As set as it ever will be. _Atmosphere, remember? It’s allll about the atmosphere._

So… kissing. She’s good at kissing, better than anyone else he’s ever kissed and it’s probably more to do with how he feels about her than with technique (because, let’s face it, there’s only so many ways a person can kiss and as long as they’re not trying to mimic an old washing machine, he’s going to like it, hell he’s going to love it, especially if their name is Avery Harlow Ryder) but she’s still just so fucking good at it that he kind of wants to give her a medal for it. And, hey, there’s an idea for later when there’s enough metal to spare for that sort of thing.

He lets out a little sigh as she pulls away from his mouth and he tries to chase her but she’s strayed down to his neck before he can make a move and he’s not going to complain about the shift in her attention because the feel of her lips – soft, plump, warm, moist – against his throat is just fucking incredible.

She shifts further down the bed, pressing kisses in a line down his chest and further and holy shit he thinks he knows where this is going and… _Holy shit, holy shit._

“Avery?” he asks, and his voice sounds so brittle, so hopeful, so … _turned on_. Just like he is.

“Hmm?” she hums into his skin, somewhere in the vicinity of his diaphragm.

“Where are you going?”

She pauses and looks up at him, a small smile gracing her lips. “I think you know the answer to that…”

“Oh.”

“Can I?” she asks, her tongue darting out to wet her lips and fucking hell, goddamnit, he might actually die.

 _Hell fucking yes_ , he thinks. “Hell fucking yes,” he says and he likes the feeling of her hot breath on his skin as she lets out a huffing laugh. “I mean, if you want to. _Only_ if you want to.”

“Oh, I want to.” She trails a hand down below his stomach, fingers stopping just shy of where he wants them to be, where _she_ wants them to be if she’s to be believed (which, yeah, she is. Avery’s just as unfalteringly honest as he is, if a little more careful with how and when she shares that honesty. _Her_ mouth? An idiot it is not.).

“Oh,” he says again. “Good.”

Her fingers reach their destination and he sucks in a long breath that he lets out in a soft hiss when she starts to stroke him. And when the gentle caress of her fingers is joined by the gentle caress of her breath… _shit_. He reaches for her, a hand settling onto her shoulder as she gets into a kneel between his legs.

“It feels weird not touching you,” he says, whines, complains.

“You _are_ touching me,” she points out as she leans down to press a single open-mouthed kiss to where a hipbone juts out.

“Duh,” he says. “But not the way I’d like.”

“Liam…” she sighs, looking at him with something close to frustration in her eyes, “you _always_ focus on me. Let me focus on you tonight.”

“But–” he manages to say before the rest of his words are cut off by a moan as she presses her lips to the head of his cock in a gentle kiss. _Shit._

“Look,” she says. “Stop being so selfish by being so selfless. Let me blow your mind by letting me … _blow_ you.”

And that is both hot and hilarious all at once so his moan ends on a spluttering laugh. “Okay…” he says, as he feels her tongue gently brush against his underside. “But do you want me to put on protection or…?”

She briefly sucks at the very tip of him – _holy shit_ – before she answers. “No. I’ve never done this before without. But I want to. For you. With you. Because all my good firsts are with you.” And shit she can be so _sweet_ sometimes. Often, actually. But she usually obscures it with biting humour and she doesn’t always just come out and say something like that so plainly. Either way – whether it’s pure sweetness or sweetness with a hint of sour – he loves it.

And, also, he loves the way her tongue is now sliding up his length, achingly slow, from base to tip.

She pauses when she reaches the top. “Anything in particular you like?” She wraps a hand around him and holds him firm.

“It’s all good, Avery.”

Her tongue darts out to circle around his head. “Easy. Just let me know if I do something wrong, then.”

He nods.

And then she really starts.

She wraps her lips around him and slowly sinks all the way down. And fucking hell, the wet, dark heat of her mouth is just… ugh, he doesn’t have the words, probably won’t _ever_ have the words.

He lets out a soft moan as his head drops back to the pillows. He’s always liked getting blown – _Seriously, who fucking doesn’t?_ – but it’s been a long time since anyone has done this for him, even if he takes out the six hundred and thirty four years of cryo. So he’s finding it difficult to compare. Not that he should, not that he needs to. No one compares to Avery, no one even comes close to how he feels about her, how she makes him feel when she touches him. And he knows for a fact that it’s never felt this good before anyway, so he can forget about all those Before Avery blowjobs, just like all those other Before Avery things. They don’t matter. Not now that he’s found her, that she’s found him, that they’ve found each other.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as she makes a small noise in the back of her throat – and, shit, he can actually _feel_ it – but it’s not a good noise, it’s a strangled noise, a gagging noise. “Hey, hey,” he says sliding his hand down to her jaw so he can ease her mouth off of him. “You alright?”

Her face betrays her with the slightest wince before she smiles. “Yeah. Good.”

“Avery…” he sighs. She’s always honest, but not always forthcoming.

She huffs. “It’s … been a while since I’ve done this, okay? Just gotta get used to it again.”

He slowly shakes his head. “You don’t have to do anything. You can stop.”

She rolls her eyes. “I thought I already made it abundantly clear that I _want_ to. Desperately.” Her hand darts down between her thighs for a second before she reaches out to press her fingers briefly to his. “See?” Then she drops her mouth back down onto him and gently sucks at his tip, making no move to go further down just yet, and it slowly registers to him just how fucking wet her fingers have left his. _Fucking capital-H Hot._

“ _Ohh_ ,” he moans, head falling back onto the pillows again. “Just go slow, okay?”

“Hm-mm,” she hums.

And, shit, the feeling of her mouth vibrating around him is… just fucking fantastic. “Oh! _Goddamn_.”

She pulls her mouth from him and looks up at him, concern clear on her face. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. Not at all. Just, uh, do that again, please.”

And she gives him such a cute, coy little smile that he thinks he could probably fall for her all over again. Hell, who is he kidding? He falls for her over and over again every damn day.

She takes it slower this time. Much slower. And he’s all the more of a fucking mess because of it. She starts off with gentle kisses, open-mouthed and slick, and then teasing, tentative licks that turn into gliding caresses when he lets out a heaving sigh and stretches. Shit. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed… actually, nah, he can; the last time they were together, obviously. She just has that effect on him. Always has. Because, somehow she manages to make him feel like he’s perpetually falling but at the same time forces him be more present in the moment than he ever is without her. _Paradoxes, man. Good stuff._

“Oh, Avery,” he groans when she sucks at him, swirling her tongue around him as she does.

She pulls off, just long enough to ask, “Good?” before she’s back on him.

“Nah, terrible,” he replies.

And what the _actual fuck_ is the matter with him? Why the hell does he insist on blurting out every stupid joke that comes into his idiot brain? And, no, he can’t use the excuse that all the blood in his head has rushed south, because he’s even more likely to say stupid shit when he doesn’t have a boner. Fucking hell. Right now, he wants to kick his own arse. But then he _feels_ her smile around him and her body shakes a little bit as she silently laughs, so she must appreciate his humour, right? Even if it is fucking stupid.

“Sorry,” he says, when she glances up at him, wry amusement twinkling in her eyes as she takes more of him into the glorious heat of her mouth. “I’m an idiot. Feels fucking amazing, Avery. Don’t stop.” And he kind of feels like a dick for requesting that after he was such a stupid idiot but she rubs a reassuring hand against his thigh and hums out an affirmative that has him _quaking_ beneath her.

And then she starts to bob her head up and down, tongue running along his underside, lips pressing into him, and she takes more and more of him with each pass, slowly sliding down until he hits the back of her throat and she can’t go any further. He feels her take a few steadying breaths before she moves again, gliding up and down with an ease that sends static across his skin.

“ _Fuuuck_ ,” he breathes as she hollows her cheeks and sucks on him. She’s good at this, like she’s good at everything that she does, but she’s doing this to _him_ and … that’s fucking something else _._

She steadily moves faster, sucks harder, the hand wrapped around his base moving in tandem with her mouth. The air is thick with the moans that he doesn’t even attempt to stifle (Why would he, though? He’s never not been vocal and she’s let him know in no uncertain terms that she likes it so… win-win.) as she brings him ever closer to that edge, the looming darkness that has his toes curling.

He can feel her mouth vibrating around him and even over the sounds he’s making he can hear her moans, far more enthusiastic than they should be. He finds the will to open his eyes (when did he even close them?) and looks down at her. And when he sees what she’s doing, his breath comes out in a rushing whoosh and he swears that he probably won’t ever be able to breathe properly again.

_Holy fucking shit._

One of her hands has disappeared between her own thighs, and he watches with wide eyes as her hips grind down against her fingers. And, shit, it’s not fair that he’s not the one doing that to her. Not fucking fair at all. But, at the same time, it’s sexy as fuck and he can feel himself losing it as he watches her pleasure herself, as he _feels_ her pleasure in the vibrations in his cock.

“Shit, Avery,” he pants. “I’m gonna… You should stop.”

But she lets out a small noise of dissent between dulcet moans and sucks harder, moves faster until he’s a shaking jumble of buzzing nerves and stupid, anxious thoughts like, _Shit, I hope she doesn’t mind the way I taste._

He curls his fingers into her hair at the last moment, he’d reach for a hand if he could but both of hers are kind of occupied with more important things than grounding him and he doesn’t think the effect would be quite the same if he clasped his own hands together so, yeah, her hair will do, it’s pretty, she’s pretty, amazing really, her mouth so fucking warm and wet and her tongue slippery slick against him, and the way her hips are rolling against her own hand, the feel of the hot, staggered breaths she’s pushing out through her nose against his skin and the sounds of her moans blending with his…

He draws in a sharp breath as he shatters to pieces and just … disappears.

He’s always found it difficult to describe what it feels like when he cums. It’s like vanishing out of existence but, at the same time, experiencing the kind of clarity that makes him feel connected to everything ( _paradoxes, man; still good stuff_ ). It’s almost spiritual … probably. He’s never had a spiritual experience so he wouldn’t actually know.

He opens his eyes and blinks away the lingering spots of darkness before his eyes can focus in on Avery.

Her forehead is resting against his hip, her breaths fanning out hard and fast across his over-heated skin, as her hand still works between her thighs. There are frantic little mewling whimpers pushing past her lips and holy shit does he wish that he were the one causing those noises (still not fair). But there’s also definitely something to be said for watching her as she pushes herself closer to the edge because he has never seen anything so fucking _hot_ as this. That is, until she lifts her head and looks up at him. And he’s sure that if he hadn’t just cum, the sight of that would be enough to do it. Because, fuck, her eyes are blazing, desperate, fierce, determined, and she holds his gaze right up until she shudders and lets her head drop against his hip again as she moans, long and low.

No biotics, he vaguely realises. And, yeah, he feels smug about the fact that blue lights have almost always flared across her skin when he’s been the one making her cum but he’s pretty sure he’s _allowed_ to feel smug about that.

“Hey, c’mere,” he says, using the fingers still entwined in her hair to gently tug her towards him.

She crawls up over him, gives him a quick kiss before she rolls onto her side next to him, draping an arm over his chest and settling her face into the crook of his neck. She kisses his throat as he catches his breath, her lips soft and gentle against his skin.

“That was…” he says. “Good stuff, Ryder. Top marks. A plus. Ten outta ten.”

She muffles her laugh into his neck. “The fuck outta here, Kosta.”

He shrugs. “Alright. I can leave.”

Her grip on him tightens and she throws a leg over his to keep him still. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He chuckles and turns his head so that he can capture her mouth in a slow, lazy kiss.

“Well that settles something I’ve been wondering ever since our first night together,” she says when they part, nuzzling her face into his neck.

Her fingers trace swirly patterns across his skin and that’s nice, comforting, calming. He closes his eyes and sighs. “What’s that?”

“My fingers?” she says, tapping them against his chest before she continues with the swirling. “Just don’t cut it anymore. Not compared to yours.”

He opens his eyes just so that he can roll them at her. “Well if you’d just let me touch you…”

“Shh!” she says, pressing a hard kiss against his jaw. “I’m not complaining. A small orgasm is still an orgasm.”

“Fair enough,” he yawns.

“Sleep?”

“Hmm,” he hums, “hella sleep.” Then he rolls onto his side to face her. “But hella kisses first.”

And damn does she kiss sweet when she’s smiling.

So.

Here’s where the scene ends.

Pathfinder’s quarters. Time? He’s even less sure of that than he was before. Head’s got a good supply of blood, boner’s gone, so there goes that theory. Time warp shit for sure. He’s naked. She’s naked. Bed’s soft. Her skin’s smooth beneath his hand as he slides it to her hip. Body’s a nice mixture of hard and soft. She still smells like flowers but now with a subtle hint of cum and sweat and, yep, she still tastes of sweets but also now with a subtle hint of cum and sweat.

The scene’s almost the same. But different. Softer. Calmer. Less charged.

But it’s still all about the atmosphere.

Because he’s come to realise that she never looks as good as she does when she’s sated and sighing in his arms, her legs tangled with his, her warm breath mingling with his, her naked skin bathed by the hazy light of a thousand thousand distant stars.

**Author's Note:**

> My first stab at Liam's POV. Not sure if it was a successful experiment, but I had a lot of fun with it so that's cool and stuff.


End file.
